


Fenris and the Itchy Sweater

by Bowm8935



Series: Tumblr Prompts [8]
Category: Dragon Age II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8257064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowm8935/pseuds/Bowm8935
Summary: "Fenris or other Dragon Age cutie stuck in an itchy sweater they’ve been dared to stay in for an entire day? "





	

He should have known better than to trust that such a seemingly simple dare would be easy. The wool scratched at his skin, raking over the sensitive lyrium markings in a manner that had him clenching his jaw. It felt rough, nearly painful, but he would not back down from his word.

When the group had drunkenly decided to play Truth or Dare in Hawke’s mansion the night before, he had made every attempt to sink into the couch and remain unseen. He had no desire to give away anything that he hadn’t already been straightforward about, valuing his privacy among his friends who pounced upon gossip like a half-starved dog would a stale piece of bread. His attempt had been unsuccessful, of course, as Hawke had dragged him into the game, refusing to take no for an answer. The first few times he had tried either truth or dare, the questions and actions were rather innocuous, lulling him into a false sense of security. Then, out of the blue, he was almost tricked into admitting who he had his eye on in the group.

He had caught himself right as the name was about to fall from his lips, green eyes going wide as he clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. The group knew he was interested in someone, but he had taken great pains not to give any sort of indication as to who it was. So he opted for the dare instead.

He should have known from the way Hawke’s mouth twisted into a smirk as they spoke the dare. He should have known when Anders’ eyes lit up as he pulled it out from within his bag. But he was so desperate to keep his secret that he had snatched it away without a second thought, tucking it into his own bag to take home.

And now he was stuck wearing the blasted thing.

“Venhedis!” He let out a loud curse when his arm started to crawl and then itch, scratching halfheartedly at it through the fabric. How was he going to make it through the day if it was already affecting him so after just a matter of hours?

Maybe they added something to it, some sort of powder to inflame the skin as an added joke. Well, if that was the case, he most definitely was not amused. His nose twitched and he let out a loud sneeze, reaching a hand up to wipe at his nose in disgust. What foul additive was cursing him in the wool?

“Sounds like you might be allergic to that, Fenris,” called out a voice behind him. He turned and saw Carver strolling toward him lazily, a bit of pity flashing in his eyes. “That sodding sweater should’ve burned by now. Don’t know why they bloody keep it.”

Fenris simply raised an eyebrow at the man in front of him, wondering if he would make his point soon. Carver shuffled a bit on his feet, rolling his shoulders before finally continuing.

“That wool always gets to whoever wears it. Just a bad batch, I guess. But here,” he produced a small clear jar of some sort of salve, handing it to Fenris. Fenris took it warily, holding it up to look at it closely- the ointment was nearly clear, and not quite solid. “If you rub that into your skin you should be fine,” Carver finished, shoving a strand of hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t think it was right to leave you suffering all day, just cuz you didn’t wanna tell them who you like and all. We all deserve our secrets.”

“Thank you, Carver,” he answered carefully, sliding the small jar into his pocket. “I will go back to the mansion and put this on immediately. How can I repay you for your assistance?” He expected the man would want money, or perhaps some help convincing Hawke to let him come along on the Deep Roads trip.

He was wrong. “Friends,” Carver blurted out, a slightly pained expression unfolding across his face after the solitary word was uttered. “I’d-I’d like to be friends, if that’s okay. And maybe to spar, you seem like a good sparring partner.”

Fenris regarded him neutrally for a moment, watching him as the man fidgeted under his gaze. Finally, he gave a small nod, imperceptible except to someone watching closely, before turning around to head back to his house. “Are you coming?” he asked, tossing a glance over his shoulder. “Once I put this on, perhaps you would like to test your mettle with a duel?”

The sound of hastened footsteps followed, and Fenris allowed himself a small smile. Perhaps with the help of the clear ointment in his pocket and a new friend, he could survive a day wearing the sweater of doom.


End file.
